Amelia calls it cosmic karma. I think the only ones who have bad karma in this scenario are the assholes atSnoop Scoop. If an asteroid crashes into Earth, it’s definitely going to flatten them first. And, you know, killers and other creepy fucks.
Amelia’s doing better than I expected, all things considered. She hasn’t been up for going out anywhere, hasn’t wanted to see anyone, aside from one or two clandestine meetings with Rory. She’s sure there’s talk in the town after that showdown the night of the soft opening, and she’s probably not wrong. So she’s mostly been staying holed up, more in her van than my house, but she doesn’t object to me spending the nights with her in Van Gogh. I think it’s where she feels safest.
My girl’s still got her dark, twisted, morbid sense of humor that I love so much about her, and if this hasn’t taken that from her yet, I’m considering her a fucking rock star.
There’s been nothing to do but wait, help her accept that this is probably coming, and distract her as often as I can, trying to keep her spirits up.
Today is supposed to be one of those distractions, and damn if I’m not gonna do my part.
Last night I finished restoring another motorbike, a Kawasaki Ninja 650 that a guy we grew up with, Diego, wants to sell. Today I wanna take it for a test drive and make sure it’s working great once it’s on the open road.
Some folks are biased against certain brands or models of motorcycles, but I think they’re just like people. Sure, we all have our favorites, but there’s something to like about all of ’em. And this bike has a lot to like about it.
This mild June weather makes for the perfect riding climate. Surprisingly warm out, but the breeze will keep us comfortable on our adventure.
Knocking on the door of Van Gogh, I hear the manual hook unlatch and then she opens the door. Sadly, this time she isn’t topless, but she still looks close to perfect. A little more light behind those teal eyes would make me happy, and I’m here to do just that for her.
“Hey, darlin’. You ready for me?”
Her smile is out of practice, but she gives me what she can anyway. I grab her hips with both hands and pull myself close to her until our bodies are flush, my jeans to hers. White tee to her dark crop top, and the tempting skin peeking out beneath it.
Amelia doesn’t say anything, so I run my fingers along her cheek, moving her hair out of the way so I can lean down to give her a kiss. That, she responds to.
When we pull apart her cheeks have more color, her eyes are brighter, and I slide my hands down her back to nestle themselves in the pockets on her ass.
“You wanna stay here today?” I ask her. “’Cause I’ll stay in bed with you forever, Miss Marsh. Say the word and that motorcycle can go fuck itself, and I’ll wrap you up like a burrito and cuddle you until I give you a cavity from how sickeningly sweet I’m being.”
Head buried in my chest, she laughs, shaking it side to side.
“Please no cavities. It would probably be good for me to get out. Can you treat me like normal for today?”
“I can do that.” The words rumble against the top of her head, where my lips are pressed.
“Just promise me we aren’t going downtown, where I’ll run into a bunch of people that saw the whole thing with that…womanthe other night.”
“Never, angel.” I kiss the top of her head, and breathe in her spicy, coconut scent.
“You know,” she says, looking up at me. “I think it’s crazy how you started calling me that so early on. It’s like you knew.”
“I just thought you had the tits of an angel,” I tease her, squeezing her ass with both hands through the denim.
That earns me a small laugh. “I better, after what I paid for ’em.”
Her stark humor gets a chuckle out of me in return, and she pulls back, ready to face the world. Or at least part of it.
“Let’s do this, Boy Scout.”
She holds her hand out for me and I take it, crouching down so I don’t hit my head in here with these boots on, and we walk out the door together. The ride to the garage is mostly quiet, her watching the passing landscape out the window, my hand on her thigh as we drive in a peaceful quiet, some indie music playing on the car stereo.
When we pull up to the garage, I notice the sign has come down. That must’ve just happened this morning. Maybe the sale went through by now and this place isn’t Gonzo’s anymore. Or—my morbid little angel must be rubbing off on me—maybe the sign just got struck by lightning?
By the time I get around to her side, Amelia has noticed my brother moving around inside the shop, head under a hood as usual, and she lets out a nervous hum.
“He won’t bother you, he’s on your side now.” He always should’ve been, but the man’s got a hard head and it took a while for some things to get through to him is all. Thankfully Rory can get through to him when common sense can’t.
Taking her hand, I help her out of the passenger side. She hops down, gray gravel crunching under her combat boots.
It doesn’t take long to get the bike rolled out to where she’s waiting, key in the ignition and ready to go. Climbing on, I pat the pillion seat behind me, inviting her up.
